| Ta rasss, who you think you playin with?
|
| It’s the Nine and I’m on some old word to Jah type shit
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| Flavor, spits from the larynx, check CD’s
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| Cassettes, brings checks up in my rest
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| Mirror, mirror — sit 'pon wall!
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| Who comes down with true wicked — yes y’all!
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| Membranes, them haffa? |
| from egg
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| Still I’m full of lead, I-ah leave nuff man dead
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| I possess finesse, wear vest 'pon chest
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| Pack Glock in waist for, whoeva won test
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| Six million ways to die — chose one!
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| Razor blade, cyanide, and de one shotgun
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| Just to name a few, I-ah mash up your crew
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| Here it comes, microphone check, ONE TWO!
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| We can get wicked whether night or day
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| Nine, Nine, come out and play!
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| Ta rasss! |
| All I need is Power-U
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| The mic, crazy cash, a twist, and a brew
|
| Ta rasss! |
| All I need is Power-U
|
| The mic, crazy cash, a twist, and a brew
|
| I get high like fuckin helicopters
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| And when I get home I peel off my silk boxers
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| Wash my nuts, scratch my ass, what the fuck is up?
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| Check the cash in the stash
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| MC’s are fleas, to Nine
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| I make cheese like thieves, nigga please!
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| Open Sesame, don’t test me
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| I’ll shove my balls in your mouth, you look like Dizzy Gillespie
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| For those who wave they arm, I’ma hack it off
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| With the weed whacker, and then back smack ya, carjack ya
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| Run you down with a tractor!
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| You a actor, tryin to play my part with no fuckin heart
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| You the tin man… nigga!
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| Go see The Wizard of Oz or kick the can
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| Damn, now I am the man the only man
|
| With a sound that pounds like gunshots in weed spots
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| The only thing she gettin is big. |
| cock.
|
| When I push and I push in that wet. |
| spot.
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| How she like it? |
| How she like it? |
| She like it a lot
|
| Cause I’m thick and I hit that G. spot.
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| I got cash, crazy cash, I stash hash
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| In the crack of my ass, then I dash, quick fast
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| I blast, MC’s don’t last, I move fast
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| Like cigarette ash, they drop, on the grass, through the glass
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| I see, asses I must pass, then I crash and cut
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| Like Grandmaster Flash at early mass!
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| The Monster Mash bump uglies like car crash
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| I’m like, Everlast, «Jump Around» when I *BUST* that ass
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| Laugh last, laugh best, who you won test?
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| I’ll make a mess on your girlfriend’s dress
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| Then bless the buddha, put away the sixteen shot shooter
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| Cause I ain’t new ta, WHO DA?
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| Hell is gonna question the «Redrum» master himself
|
| Yeah, I blow ta rasss off the top shelf
|
| Ta rasss. |
| all respect goes out
|
| To KRS-One, Primo, Ralph McDaniels, Sluggy Ranks
|
| Redman, Method Man, Ill Al Skratch
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| Tha Alkaholiks — J-Ro, my nigga!
|
| And that’s how I’ma leave you on this note right here
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| If you FRONTIN, on the N-I-N-E
|
| I bring ta rasss. |
| mad noise, and let you recognize!
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| It’s my turn now! |
| (ta rasss)
|
| Ta rasss! |